It's Who We Are
by thosetooweaktoseekit
Summary: Harry always seems to find trouble. In an accident early third year the trio end up in a very different Hogwarts. Translation for different: a thousand years in the past. They face trials like never before, and discover that it is not who you are that matters, it is what you become to survive. On their journey the three evade the inevitable question; will they ever return home?
1. Severus Snape Snaps

Author's Note: I have to admit that I think Snape is a fun character to play with, and he will pop up quite a few times in the story, but I won't have him OOC

If you wonder how I can incorporate Snape often if just the trio is traveling back, well, you'll see what happens won't you?

* * *

**Snape Snaps**

* * *

The door to Snape's office swung open smoothly, silently, and a cold voice beckoned him ominously.

"Well, come in Potter." Harry gulped as he remembered the occurrences in this office earlier this year. The flying car may not have gotten him ( or Ron) expelled, but who knows what Snape has up his sleeves?

Robes still dripping with muck from the Chamber, and an astonishing amount of blood as well, Harry stepped through the doorway only barely. This is just what I need, Harry thought, to survive a basilisk and get murdered by Snape a mere hour later.

He could see the headlines now, _Boy-Who-Pissed-Off-Snape-And-Payed-With-Life._ Shaking away his irrationality, he fully emerged into the professor's view, out of the shadows that lurked by the door.

Perhaps it was his overactive imagination, but the Potion Master's sallow face seemed to be stained an even paler shade as he eyed the collecting blood on his floor and the shreds that Harry's uniform was in.

Not to mention Riddle's diary, which was oozing ink, clutched tightly in the Gryffindor's right hand. A flash of emotion completely foreign to Harry crossed Snape's face, but it was gone and replaced with the usual sneer so quickly that he forgot about it.

The man's dark, hatred-brimming eyes locked on Harry's suddenly- searching. Harry felt a strange itch on his head, and reached up to rub his forehead. He missed the aggravated frown Snape displayed in return.

"So, this tale of the Chamber and," he paused as if searching for the appropriate words,"your involvement in it, holds some truth to it, I suppose. Unless, that is, you like to roll about in mud. Fitting, don't you agree? Like swine father, like swine son." Seething at the slow tone his teacher used as if he was some sort of idiot and the low swipe at his father, Harry decided to be utterly honest.

Because, he thought viciously, Snape _deserves_ the truth. Staring back at the professor with an insolent smile playing across his lips, Harry stood straighter, prouder than before.

"Oh, you mean when, say, thirty minutes ago I fought a basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor? When I got stabbed by a basilisk fang and Fawkes cried to heal it? When I met the sixteen year old Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort, a memory preserved in a diary for fifty years? Yes, professor, the rumors are true, if anything I said is what you heard." When Harry finished his little talk; spoken he might add, in the same condescending speech that Snape so often used on him, said man looked shell shocked.

Now is the moment, Harry thought. Strike while he's weak. Maybe this was too Slytherin, a part of him worried Tom Riddle was right -they were alike, but it felt right despite it all.

In a soft, wise voice he spoke now.

"If my father was a swine and a bully, as you so preach, what does that make you?" Snape jerked his head up but, as Harry had predicted, didn't say a word. Harry stepped back slowly, as if backing away from a cornered animal. He had some parting words as well. He didn't know his father sadly, but worked off of Snape's hate for him to hit a nerve. His voice dropped so low now, you could barely hear. "Tell me professor, what makes you so much better?"

Harry left without dismissal, leaving behind as the only evidence of his visit a frightening amount of slick red on the stone floor. He didn't just strike a nerve, no. Harry didn't realize how deep he had reached into Severus Snape.

Snape stared emotionlessly, blankly, after the boy. Betraying nothing, as always. Harry might have seriously just broke the man or fixed him for all anyone would know, besides Severus of course. Then, if you really thought about it, maybe not even Severus could know. Maybe he was too far gone to be fixed or broken, or even to tell the difference.

Because we all know sometimes we break things so badly they can't be broken again- nor repaired. They lay gathering dust- used until they can't be used ever again and an empty shell of what they used to be.

* * *

Reviews please! Take a couple seconds, will ya?

This one's a shortie, I know, but kinda like a warm up for the rest of the story I like to think.


	2. Events Leading Up To (Part One)

Author's Note: thosetooweaktoseekit here!

To daithi4377: Actually, Harry saw Dumbledore but he got called down to Snape's office because the professor didn't believe the rumors flying about, and demanded proof from the headmaster, who made him go to Snape because it 'would be rude not to'. It'll be better explained later on, I promise.

* * *

**Events Leading Up To **

**Part 1**

**(or _The Happenings Before We Got Sucked Way Back In Time_)**

* * *

He didn't want to leave. Besides from Dark Lords and killer basilisks, Hogwarts was the safest place he knew. Perhaps it was stupid, but Harry considered the castle to be his home. An added bonus as of late was that Snape practically ignored him. Sure that meant he was tougher on the other Gryffindors, but Harry felt a great joy when thinking of how he silenced the professor. The man deserved a wake up call, needed one. Harry deigned himself to give it, is all.

To think of switching out his friends and the castle for the Dursleys left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, not to mention the sour taste in his mouth. Privet Drive, his personal hell.

But never the less, he packed up his trunk and boarded the Express with everyone else. That is, after he begged Professor Dumbledore to stay and, of course, was refused his sanctuary. Since the escapade with the Weasleys last summer, the Dursleys were going to be worse than ever, he just knew it. But the Headmaster wouldn't budge on the issue, so Harry resigned himself to his inescapable fate; no matter how many Weasleys tried to come to his rescue he knew Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to leave. Apparently living with _muggles_ is a great learning experience. But Harry couldn't help but think bitterly, that didn't turn out well for Tom Riddle, did it? All that muggle _experience. _

* * *

As the gleaming red train pulled into nine and three quarters, three friends jostled their way out onto the platform. Harry said his goodbyes, and headed towards the entrance to the muggle world, but Ron grabbed his arm.

"We'll get you out, don't worry. We won't leave you with those-those-" Ron then appeared to struggle to find the fitting, but appropriate (as in not a swear), words for the Dursleys. "Those monsters! " Harry wanted to smile and laugh away his friend's serious expression and stressed tone, but found he couldn't bring himself to fake it. Ron _had _seen the scars, they were dormmates after all, and clearly didn't forget. That combined with his brief introduction to the residents of Number Four Privet Drive last summer lead to questions Harry didn't want to answer. Or worse; he had drawn his own conclusions and they are correct.

His eyes prickled a bit, Ron's concern touched him deeply. He wished with all of his soul that his friends could help him out. But they can't.

In order to convince anyone Harry was in danger the truth of the Dursleys would need to come out, and no one could know. At least in Harrry's eyes. It was an embarrassment, the Boy-Who-Lived can't even defend himself from his muggle relatives. He could see the headlines, way worse than the killed-by-Snape scenario.

Ron eyed him, the question clear on his face. _Can I tell? _

"N-no. I mean I'm good, Ron. See you next year?" He stumbled over the no, and his best friend looked unconvinced. But right then Mrs. Weasley called for her sons and the red head turned to go. Harry started walking away again, trusting blindly that Ron wouldn't speak a thing.

Said boy glanced back at Harry repeatedly with varying looks of worry. When he made it to his family he pulled the twins aside. When they stopped talking with each other, it became three Weasleys that cast worried expressions at Harry's retreating back.

This retreating back left the wizarding world without a spare look behind himself, because he knew if he turned back once he wouldn't manage to leave at all.

* * *

"It's the cupboard for you, boy!" Harry grimaced as Vernon grabbed the scruff of his neck and unceremoniously dumped his lithe body in his old sleeping quarters. In the past two years Harry had been free from this particular confinement, he had grown, making the tight fit even more uncomfortable.

He gritted his teeth as waves of pain washed over him, the wounds on his back were fresh and aching. But Harry was well accustomed to pain, and nothing could compare to the burning fires of the basilisk venom in his veins, so he made due. That sort of pain, basilisk venom poisoning, was worse than the strongest Cruciatus curse, though Harry didn't know what that curse was. At least not yet.

The last two months had been torture. The Dursleys took every opportunity to punish and starve the poor boy, obviously having not forgotten the flying car incident. He wished many times he hadn't declined Ron's hidden offer, but the thought of everyone knowing he truly pathetic he was drove the fantasies of freedom away.

Besides, surely the great Albus Dumbledore knew of this situation. If the Headmaster didn't want to do anything then no one else would either, Harry assumed.

He fell into a troubled sleep mid day, dreaming of the Burrow and, strangely enough, Riddle. At that point it was more like a nightmare.

_You're just like me,_ he whispers, standing by the front door to the Weasley home. That high, cold laugh echoes around when Harrry violently denies. It continued on as the Burrow began to burn despite Harry's valiant attempts to put it out. Screams rose from the inside, until all that remained were smoking ashes. Riddle stepped through the destruction. _Like me. _

It was almost phrased like a question. Harry shouted at the image, asking why he did this. Tom laughed genuinely this time. _But don't you see? I didn't do a thing. This is on you._ Harry asked hesitantly why would he do something so terrible. The dream Voldemort's answer would haunt him._ Just because you say you don't want to, doesn't mean deep down you don't. You and I are diseased. The type of sickness that isn't shown on the surface. I think the real question you have is how do you get rid of something that is inside of you. The answer is simple: you don't. It is a part of you, natural as breathing. You are poisoned Harry Potter, and you will destroy everything you hold dearest. _

Tom looked to the wreckage of the Burrow. _Can you deny, truly, that no part of you enjoyed that?_

Harry woke in a cold sweat.

* * *

Swaying absentmindedly on the swing, Harry focused on blocking out the memories of high pitched and ice cold laughter; taunting him in these long hours of the early morning. The moon hadn't made an appearance once during the night and the sun still had yet to show, so Harry had been submerged in darkness for so long his eyes had accustomed fully. He guessed it was sometime around three in the morning, but it could be closer to four.

Harry, unable to sleep, snuck out to the park for fresh air.

Eyes drooping ever so slightly he stood to stretch and, noticing a suspicious shaking bush, also casually slipped his wand into his hand from his sleeve. Harry slowly faced the vegetation, and found a large pair of yellow eyes staring intently at him. Thinking of a similar occurrence last summer he blurted out,

"Dobby?!" The bush growled and out emerged a gigantic feral-looking beast. Midnight black, shaggy hair covered the wolf/dog. Harry tensed but it tilted its head sideways and wagged its tail in a decidedly friendly manner. Definitely not Dobby though.

So he sat back down, and in a moment of pure loneliness, decided to explain (to a dog!) why he yelled Dobby.

"He was a Malfoy house elf that sorta stalked me last year, trying to save my life from a plot that Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort hatched. It was pointless in the end because I had to fight a Basilsk and a sixteen year old angsty Dark Lord." Harry stopped here, looking at the dog. He stared thoughtfully. He wasn't one to speak so openly to people, let alone to animals like some sort of nut. But something was comforting, familiar, about the shaggy beast. Taking a wild, stupid chance Harry spoke again.

"Wag your tail if you understand me, please." It eyed him as if debating, but then one solid thump came from its tail. Harry cleared his throat- they continued his story.

"I kinda freed him. The house elf that is. So Malfoy senior? Not my biggest fan." The last sentence cause a bout of strange snuffling sounds from the intelligent dog.

It seemed to be laughter.

A ray of light stretched up and over the horizon, alerting Harry that he needed to go and make _dear_ Vernon his breakfast. Standing up he smiled at the dog.

"Gotta go. Dursleys are gonna throw a fit." The animal (if it was even that) whined. Harry understood.

"I'll come back as soon as I can, promise." It brightened visibly at the words, and Harry began jogging back to Privet Drive. For once, he thought, I have something to look forward to. The mystery of the dog, is it magical perhaps? But that question would have to wait until another time, now he had to put up with some wonderful muggle-ness. But what he didn't notice is that, for the rest of the day, he did not think of the Dark Lord once.

Harry also didn't realize how what just happened was going to change the wizarding world's future, for better or for worse. How it would set off a chain reaction, and begin the adventure of a thousand lifetimes.

* * *

Any advice, things you didn't like, or perhaps did like, are very helpful to myself and my writing! Review with anything you wish to say.


	3. Events Leading Up To (Part Two)

Author's Note: the last chapter the time travelers spend in their time

* * *

**Events Leading Up To**

**Part 2**

* * *

Harry took every opportunity to visit the dog in the park, often bringing food from what little amounts the Dursleys gave him. At first Snuffles, the name Harrry had christened him due to the odd laughter the dog had, greedily ate. But eventually it began to eye Harry's slight frame with suspicion, and began to refuse anything offered.

Harry was deeply aggravated by this, the dog was much skinner than him and no way could it know that the food it was eating was Harry's rations. If Harry didn't know better he would say that Snuffles knew the food he was recieving was the majority of what Harry would get for the week. But that was impossible, because Snuffles didn't leave the park.

Or did he?

The strange pair got along great, Harry felt he finally found a confidant. Besides from the food issue, theirs was a harmonious relationship. This was of course ignoring the fact that whenever Harry questioned of Snuffles' origins the dog seemed to turn a deaf ear.

September first was approaching fast, coming with it Hogwarts and no Snuffles. A couple days prior to departure to the castle he told the dog. The poor thing looked heartbroken, so in a flash of sorrow Harry offered something he wasn't so sure he could follow through with successfully.

"Why don't you come with me?" Though Harry's summer companion perked up at that greatly, he looked disbelieving- yet nonetheless kept a slight look of hope on his doggy face. Harry was propelled by that hopefulness and the rest of his hastily concocted plan come together in mind.

"I could disillusion you on the train! Come _on,_ Snuffles. Live a little, it'll be fine." He appealed his idea with a subtle jab at the dog's bravery, something of a challenge Snuffles couldn't say no to. Besides, he saw the longing look in his eyes. Snuffles wanted to come, he just needed a little push in the right direction.

Finally, after a ponderous minute, the dog let out a single approving yip. This is going to be one hell of a year, Harry thought, though it would take a lot to cap last year and first. If he had known what was in store for him and his friends, Harry would completely agree however that the upcoming school year was going to take the cake.

* * *

Dragging his loaded trunk behind him while trying not to hit anyone, Harry struggled his way across the crowded station. Nervously he glanced this way and that, afraid someone, anyone, would comment on the giant, Grim-like dog dutifully following him. He had wanted originally to disillusion Snuffles right away on the platform, but knew in the busy rush of wizards and witches someone might accidentally trip over an invisible dog. Harry _really _didn't feel like getting sued, or having Hermione yell at him ("of all the irresponsible things!"). Somehow the youth made it to an empty compartment without anyone shouting out, "That's against the rules!"

He speedily whipped out his wand and hid Snuffles, then plopped down dramatically. He heard Snuffles, well, snuffle in laughter at the theatric movement. Harry stuck out his tongue in the approximate direction of the dog, pulling out _Advancements of the Mind and Soul._

It was extremely rare a book, and Harry was forced to go down Knockturn to fetch it when the Flourish and Bott's shopkeeper said he didn't carry books that delved furthermore into Legilmency or Occlumency. The more obscure branches of magic were more difficult, yes, but Harry considered it worth it if he could shield his mind from attacks and, even better, read other people's minds.

This wasn't the only book Harry had picked up in the dangerous, dark alley, he needed to know more about _everything _and sadly Diagon didn't hold most of the things he searched for. However, when one was searching for the subjects Voldemort studied, it was a bit hard to discover these things in a run of the mill store.

Despite how that sounded, Harry wasn't going Dark. He honestly just wanted a better understanding of Tom Riddle, and to get a grasp on what he was up against. It didn't hurt if he learned a nasty curse here or there.

He thanked every deity that the Dursleys decided to go on a trip to London, otherwise he may have never gotten to Diagon Alley for school supplies; although admittedly most of what he purchased wasn't on curriculum.

After his little showdown with Riddle, he realized he needed to up his game. He was stumped though, because the only way to increase magical strength was through the darkest of rituals and he wasn't quite so interested in _understanding _Riddle that well. But as Harry read one of the books from Knockturn he grew suspicious and realized he really wouldn't need rituals for power after all.

It turned out that he had a magical suppression, or better known as a magic block. The symptoms of blocking all fit and he even tested it, through trying to summon his core strength like any none blocked wizard can do. When that didn't work he knew something was up.

He wondered angrily for many a night who had done such a thing like block his magic and why, but decided in the end to devote his time to learning how to break the block instead of being driven mad with suspicion of everyone around him. He couldn't break it without a wand, so it would have to wait until Hogwarts.

There was a chapter devoted to the negatives of releasing your magical potential after long times of suppression, how you could lose your mind with power, or become an entirely different person because magic blocks could often be tied in with personality changers or glamours. Harry thought that there was no way he would go mad with power, he would like to be just Harry, please. As for blocks being tied in with personality changers or glamours; Harry was told constantly how much he looked like his parents and from Snape how much he was like his father. So, not much risk there either that he was glamoured or his personality was changed if everyone said he was like his family. All in all, a win-win situation.

He was going to get to reach his full magical capability, giving him better footing against Lord Voldemort and his mindless sycophants. His path to a better chance of survival begins tonight at Hogwarts, he would do the first steps before bed.

He just had to be careful the next day, because if he became too emotional his magic could fully release at once having catastrophic effects. The book said the effects varied on the person, and knowing Harry's luck he'd blow up the school.

Harry was still debating whether or not to tell Ron and Hermione. But he wanted to deal with that problem when he came to it. Snuffles was the next to tell that he thought of, but Harry didn't. It was not as if the dog could suddenly start talking to offer advice, and Harry needed a deeper conversation than a few wags of the tail.

The train by now had picked up speed, blurring the surrounding green, sprawling countryside. He knew his two best friends would find him soon, but when the compartment door slid open a few minutes later it wasn't them. It wasn't even a student that peered inside.

A middle aged man with light brown hair that had suspicious gray streaks smiled graciously despite his shabby robes, that were put to shame next to Harry's fancy Malkin dress wear. Then his eyes widened marginally, obviously recognizing Harry as the famed Boy-Who-Lived. But Harry decided to play nice before judging whether or not he was a rabid fan.

"Hello." The man dipped his head and responded.

"Hello. I'm Remus Lupin, the new-"

"Defense professor. I know."

"And you are?" Harry just raised a disbelieving eyebrow. This made the professor grin in a strangely nostalgic way, and then stick out his hand for a shake.

"Hello, Mr. Potter." Harry politely shook, then waited for the man to speak. Professor Lupin asked hesitantly,

"Are- are you waiting for anyone? I mean, is this compartment open? I-" The man was clearly getting flustered so Harry, out of the kindness of his heart, intervened.

"You can sit here, there's plenty of room. Just me and two of my friends here. Ron and Hermione are probably still scouring the train for me. But I prefer to remain in the back, despite their complaints." Professor Lupin looked immensely grateful, the kind of look that said 'this means more to me than you'll ever know'. The kind of look Harry didn't understand why the new teacher would have. What's so fantastic about sitting here?

Of course, Harry thought, I'm the famed destroyer of Voldemort. Who _wouldn't _want to sit with him? But the man didn't seem to be like the other 'hero' worshippers.

Out of habit Harry combed his fingers through his hair absentmindedly, at which Remus Lupin looked wistful. Thankfully Harry didn't see that, or he would have had questions that the graying man wouldn't want to answer. The silence that continued for the next few minutes wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it suited the two (three if you're counting the invisible dog).

As Harry had predicted the door burst open shortly after and a familiar girl flew in- with much less bushy hair than expected though. Slower, followed a gangly red head that could only be a Weasley.

Hermione with her newly straighter hair spoke breathlessly, "We've been searching for you all _over!_" Ron silently plopped down across from Harry, and unknowingly next to the professor. He began to open his mouth, but Harry cleared his throat and pointy looked in the direction of Lupin.

Ron turned, granted very confusedly, then jumped nearly a foot in the air out of shock; mouth flopping like a fish. In-between gasps of laughter Harry introduced the man.

"Ron- Professor Lupin. Professor Lupin- Ron." Said teacher grinned in amusement at Ron's reaction.

"How do you do?" It was phrased like a question, but clearly wasn't one. Ron's ear tips shading a deep red was the only response.

"I'll be teaching-"

"Defense," Hermione and Ron chorused. Professor chuckled.

"So I suppose that curse is still in place, eh? Or are you all seers?" Hermione eagerly leaned forth.

"What curse?" Both Harry and Ron mentally groaned while simultaneously feeling sorry for Lupin. It may seem like one harmless question, but Hermione was sure to have twenty more ready by the time you had answered the first. Sure enough nearly the rest of the ride to school consisted of Hermione milking every detail from Professor Lupin about the defense position curse.

Harry smiled to himself at the interaction. Lupin seemed almost as excited as Hermione! He eventually however picked up his book again, and began re-reading the section on block removing just to be safe.

Silence had fallen soon after and Harry looked up, surprised that his knowledge thirsty friend would give up at all from her barrage of wonderings. But both her and Ron were looking at him as if he had grown another head all of a sudden. The professor just sat there, probably as confused about his friends' behavior as he was. Ron however cleared it all up.

"Mate, since when do you read for," he paused in exaggerated disgust, " fun? Oi, I tell you I would never if not for bookworm over here." He jabbed a thumb at Hermione, who slapped it away. Ron looked bashful, though clearly still was steadfast in what he had said. Harry shrugged and went back to his book.

Though he heard hesitant conversation start up again, for the rest of the way he could still feel those curious eyes on him.


	4. A Rough Introduction To A New World

Author's Note: welcome to the year 993 A.D.

* * *

**A Rough Introduction**

* * *

Harry sat on his familiar dorm bed wearily, remembering what had happened after they arrived on the Hogwarts platform. The professor had complicated things with Snuffles making it into the castle unseen, then Draco Malfoy almost tripped over him. Somehow the dog had made it under the Gryffindor table without incident, but then they had to finagle their way to the common room without anyone flailing over an invisible animal, which would be extremely obvious of a give away and might just cause a wide spread panic over an invisible 'attacker' who has made it into the school. That is the least terrible possibility, the worst being they find Snuffles and Harry's expelled.

Ron and just about everyone else was downstairs, trading greetings and starting up Gobstones games. Harry was upstairs, preparing to begin removing his magic block while Snuffles lay asleep on the bed. He lifted the knife and his hand above the cauldron, then cut a fine line down his palm without even a wince in retaliation to the pain. It joined the pure water and swirled about in the depths.

Harry then reached for the red iris powder, another thing only accessible in Knockturn. With a few chanted Latin words that he didn't quite understand, Harry felt a pull- as if something inside of him was being ripped. To be honest, not a good feeling.

He winced at that, and fell silently to the floor clutching his chest. He felt as though he had arrived on death's door, that was how drained he was. Crawling up onto his bed, with slow, pained movements he fell into a deep slumber despite how considerably early the time...

Snuffles sleepily looked up when Harry's weight made its way onto the mattress, then moved closer to protectively curl around him.

* * *

When awake, he realized that unblocking his magic was a much more difficult process then the book said. Though he had to admit it was rather nice to fall asleep without any nightmares plaguing him. Groaning he glanced at his schedule; Potions first thing.

Snape may have ignored him the end of last year, but would that courtesy extend to now? Well, he was about to find out.

* * *

Snape most _definitely _did not ignore him. In fact, he was worse than ever. As class came to a close he called out,

"Potter! Stay behind." Harry was very tempted to walk out the door anyway, but he didn't. Once every other child had left and Ron had sent one last pitying glance, the seemingly calm professor stood menacingly over Harry's desk.

"I let you off easy last year, for your disrespect." That was how he began and Harry couldn't help what he replied with, it came naturally.

"You mean my truth." Snape's cheeks tinged the lightest pink, giving away his emotion, and Harry hurried on before he cost Gryffindor all the points they had. "You left me alone because you knew not in your mind, but in your heart- your cold, cold heart- that you _are _no better. Not even you could argue fact. That is why you 'let me off easy'." Snape was not backing down however. He snarled while leaning forward,

"You despicable-" Harry cut him off.

" Is that really the proper way to be addressing a student, sir?" Snape lost it then. He stood ramrod straight up, then slammed his hands down on Harry's desk with such force that the boy nearly leapt away in fright.

"I CAN SPEAK TO YOU HOWEVER I WISH!" He roared in anger. he opened his mouth to speak again, but never did Harry hear what he was going to say.

Because, right then, Snuffles burst through the door, leaping for the man's neck with a snarl. What happens next seemed to be in slow motion. Snuffles, inches from Snape's throat, transformed into a tall man with a wild mane of black hair.

Harry didn't knew what to feel about that, the fact the dog he confided in was a person, but he knew what the right thing was to do. He grabbed the professor's arm and yanked him ferociously to the side, so that Snuffles/stranger had to stop in order not to fall on his face. Snape looked confusedly and, almost gratefully to Harry, if the man was capable of such a feeling. He pulled out his wand with a fluid motion and stood in front of Harry protectively despite his earlier behavior, but he wasn't the only one with a wand. Snuffles, or whoever he really was, rasped in a voice that obviously hadn't been used in a long while,

"Leave my godson alone, _Snivellus._" Snape seemed to growl angrily at first, and then smiled oddly, somewhat pleased.

"The dementors will have you for this, you know. You're good as gone, Black." Harry awoke from his dazed state, and struggled against Snape's outstretched arm when the strange man's words computed.

"You're my godfather? I have a godfather?" The filthy man smiled then, looking oddly familiar. As if he had seen him before, somewhere.

"Yes, Harry. I broke out to protect you." Now his voice became urgent.

"It wasn't me, I swear Harry. It was Petttigrew. He was the-" Snape snarled,

"Shut it, Black. He doesn't want to hear your excuses." 'Black' raised his wand, but then Harry shouted out,

"The photograph! At the wedding, you were there! It said 'Siri'. Is that you?" The man smiled brightly again, too bright for such a gaunt face, and nodded enthusiastically.

"Sirius, but you can call me Padfoot. It was my old nickname at school. Your father came up with it." Now Harry was beaming. Snape raised his face directly in Sirius' face, and spoke again- low and deadly.

"You're going to the dementors. They'll suck out your soul, and you'll be nothing but a lifeless body." Harry felt a rush of hot anger. Who was this man, to threaten his newfound family and attempt to hit him? What sort of mad man does that? Perhaps this reaction was irrational, he didn't know Sirius after all, but he refused to believe that Snuffles, the one who had growled menacingly whenever Dudley and gang came near, would be just gone now. Snuffles was always Sirius, and he had trusted Snufffles. So he trusted Sirius.

He distantly heard Ron and Hermione enter behind him, probably wondering what was taking so long, and Hermione gasping in shock. But he focused on the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He was _so _angry, and it was a consuming feeling that choked him in a- dare he say- strangely pleasant way.

Very, very angry, Harry was. He felt Ron grab his arm as if to snap him out of it, and Hermione gently tapping his other before the faces of a fuming Snape and a hopeful godfather disappeared in a brilliant flash of Avada Kedvara green. The last he knew was a terrible pain in his chest like when unblocking his magic but a thousand times worse, and an ache through his side that was dull in comparison.

He realized before unconsciousness seized him what had happened.

Harry had let his emotions control him- releasing all his magic at once. Literally the only guidelines for the whole procedure he had screwed up. Now, he might not survive because of his stupidity.

Then the pain in his side and chest became too much and the blackness took over. He hoped in his final moments he would have a chance to awake again and live and know this newfound family member, Sirius.

He deserved that much, right?

But a small voice in the back of his head whispered wisely, sounding suspiciously of Tom Riddle, _it's not what you deserve, is it? It's what you get that matters._

* * *

_An interlude into the mind of Hermione Jean Granger_

Harry was unconscious.

And Hermione had no clue what was going on.

At such a time she longed for Harry's natural leadership qualities and calm demeanor in the face of crisis' like ending up- where ever they were.

Ron hisses a swear lowly from a few paces off and slowly lifts his hands from Harry side, a crimson syrup seeming to drizzle off them. Hermione watched, mesmerized, until her common sense came back. She felt suddenly sick.

_Blood_. Harry's blood. Ron put his hands to Harry's chest again. That's where the wound must be, Hermione decided. She walked over wearily, warily, and gasped with horror at the sight that met her.

A long, pointed stick was impaled sideways through her best friend's side. It probably just barely missed puncturing his lungs, sparing him from immediate death. Though without a good Healer, Hermione knew in her mind he wouldn't make it even if her heart demanded otherwise. Looking about she saw many more of these sharpened sticks poking just slightly out of the dirt. Ingenious, she thought, if the tiniest pressure is put on the ground nearby the weapon would fly up to impale you. Harry had landed directly on it, only causing it to pop out of the ground and through him however, hence why it was stuck in him.

But why would anyone set something like this up? What's the purpose?

Perhaps hunting, Hermione decided. Muggles like to make all sorts of hunting traps for catching animals.

Ron was the first to speak, breaking the silence in a hoarse tone.

"This is bad, Hermione. Real bad. We need to get a Healer, soon. I don't know what happened- " He paused and looked around with empty eyes, unseeing.

" -or _where _we are, but that man in Snape's office-" He struggled for a breath.B"That was Sirius Black." Hermione absently corrected him.

"_Professor _Snape." Ron suddenly stood and pulled out his wand. Hermione, startled and scared, did the same. But all her friend did was cast a levitation spell on Harry's still, pale form. It lifted him barely two feet up, and Ron turned to her frantically now that his initial shock had worn off.

"Help me, I can see a road from through the trees there. We need to get Harry help. _Now._" Hermione's sluggish attitude in face of theshock of whatever happened vanished immediately, she needed to help Harry. She cast a levitation and then stepped forward to remove the stick. Ron moved faster than she had ever seen. With his arm out stopping her he looked deadly serious,

"Don't, if that comes out he'll bleed freely. So unless you've got blood replenishing potion on you and some of Madam Pomfrey's magical bandages- we've got to leave it in. Plus, how many healing spells do either of us know?" Hermione couldn't help but make a face, it bothered her to leave Harry like so. Ron glanced at her understandingly; he didn't like it any better she realized. But it was true, they hadn't gotten to any healing spells on curriculum and Hermione hadn't expanded her horizons that much to include reading on healing.

A warm feeling spread onto her cheeks as Ron repeatedly looked to her on the short walk to the road.

No, she reprimanded, whatever this is- Harry has to come first. Geez, I'm acting as if I like-

Hermione almost stopped at the thought. Certainly not, she decided primly. And she also ignored how flimsly fake of an excuse that sounded even in her head.

Upon reaching the road, they discovered it was more of a wide dirt path. So they had to be far from civilization, she concluded. Her heart plummeted looked at the still, floating body of Harry by the low shrubs to the side. They had to find someone, anyone. She and Ron gently put him down so that he was unseen from the road, just in case, and began to argue over who would go searching for help.

"This isn't doing any good! " Ron practically shouted at Hermione, face taut and drawn. She stepped back. He looked so old and tired and- _scared._

"Go," he said, walking back to Harry. When she didn't move he shouted out,

"GO! And-" His voice cracked a bit.

"Come back. With help, you have to. You have to, Hermione." Words so quiet, she barely caught them- but understood Ron's feelings. Harry's life lay in the balance. Hermione turned around, and ran for all she was worth. She flew, dust soaring up around her and sticking to the tears running down her face. It was hitting her- Harry might not make it this time. The first friend she ever had was leaving Hermione.

Not on my watch, she thought protectively, desperately. Blinded by salty wetness she nearly collided with a beautifully dressed woman. One, she noted, who was wearing a decorative cloak around her shoulders. A witch! She could surely help, somehow. Hermione cleared her throat. The woman spun with inhuman speed to whip a wand directly into Hermione's face.

"Ma'am! Help- my friend's been hurt, very badly. Please, it's just down the road and-" Now this woman lowering her threatening wand as Hermione spoke, taking in the tears fresh on her cheeks and dirt caking her Hogwarts robes. Once the woman's eyes hit that crest she looked decidedly worried.

"You're from the school." It was stated disbelievingly. Hermione looked confused at the interruption and spoke again with new tears welling up in her eyes.

"My friend, please," her voice broke, " I think he's dying and I need help, _please._" The woman smiled softly now and compassionately, still looking worried a tiny bit though.

"Where did you say, dear?" Hermione had a déjà vu feeling of Mrs. Weasley at the King's Cross platform, but brushed it away.

"Back up the road some. I really don't know how far, I mean, I was running, and was so scared I won't find any-" Hermione trailed off as the lady seemed to fade away for a minute. When she returned he face was calculating.

"Are you one of the lurers? Is this what this is?" Her voice was rough and nothing could hide the slight disgust and fear in her eyes. Hermione was confused by all of this, now was letting the new tears that that been so close to brimming over fall down her grimy cheeks.

"Please! I don't know what you mean, what a lurer is, please-" Hermione felt like she was losing it. Oh how the gods above must laugh, to make the first person she comes across an able bodied witch who was to distrustful to help. The woman was with a friendly face and tone that didn't match her Harry-condemning words.

"Down the road, that's where the traps are. You think I'm that naive? Young one, I suggest you take your leave. You are a fantastic actor, yes, but-" the woman stiffened suddenly and her eyes glazed over, from the deceiving shade of kind blue they changed to a pale, sickly whitish color.

With a start she looked about wildly, the fear from before enlarged to encompass her entire face, and then, without another word to the still crying Hermione, apparated away.

* * *

Bodies flew through the air with tremendous force, still screaming. He dashed through the smoky haze- this part of his life was supposed to be over. He was supposed to be free. Well, he thought grimly as he sliced his sword into another one of the beasts, it looks as though one more sleepless night was upcoming. Nightmares would plague the North tower tonight; he was sure of it.

A soft pop here and there announced the movements of his companion, a not-so-soft shout of misery announced when his companion struck. Smiling slightly as he imagined the mischievous grin on his friend's face when he took the enemy by surprise, he also thought of how he had to be strong.

Both physically- and mentally. If he was in a depressed mood, it would drag his already commonly dour friend into a dark place that was unnecessary for him to be in. And, honestly, dangerous for him to be in. Especially for himself. If he did anything to harm someone while in a bad state, he would never forgive himself. It would drive him mad.

Dragging his focus back to the impromptu battle, he heard a louder pop than usual. Not Salazar then, he thought. I think that the link re-activated itself then, I didnt call anyone so it must have been Sal. A quick flash of worry for his friend creased his face, Salazar was not one to ask for help. If he was calling them to help him- no. Godric shook those frightening thoughts away. If Sal was injured he wouldn't be so stubborn not to tell I. He was most likely just testing the warding on the town, to see if it was weakening as the two of them slaughtered every monster in sight.

Good, he thought, that means the beasts' wards are failing and we can end this. Glancing to the side, he saw his third oldest friend, whom Salazar had linked.

I guess it doesn't hurt to have a little back up Godric decided- then added viciously in thought, I guess they're going to learn the pains of fighting a trained Healer, she knows _just _how to make you hurt.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hermione was running again, and losing hope she would ever reach civilization, or anything besides desolate forest. Panting as she topped a hill, she kneeled to catch her breath.

A long, broad shadow fell over her.

"Hello young lady. My unit is just about to leave, heading for where you where running from. There something we need to know about from over yonder?" The voice was gentle, but had undercurrents Hermione was too exhausted to notice.

"My- my friend he's-" She gasped for breath.

"- injured badly and I don't know how to heal him and-" She swallowed more air noisily.

"- I'll do anything! Please help him, please..." She trailed off and the man squatted down, lifting her chin up. A wizard, she slowly processed from the fine tailored robing. Stupid me, I didn't even check, what if it was a muggle?

The man smiled.

"You don't have to do a thing. Your friend, he is a wizard as well?" Hermione never saw the manical gleam.

"Y-yes. Both of them, wizards but only Harry's hurt."

"Two friends?" The man didn't seem angry about this missing piece of information that wasn't mentioned earlier, in fact he sounded positively delighted. Standing up again he offered Hermione a hand.

"Well," he said- awfully chipper, " let's go help your friend." Hermione grasped his hand gladly and they vanished like the kind eyed woman from before. Let him help, Hermione begged in her mind silently, let Harry be alright because I don't think I would know what to do without him.


	5. Foes and No Friends

Author's Note: I took a bit of a break inbetween chapters, but a published writer friend of mine said to always take your time with writing if you want it to be good- waiting a day or two and looking over something with new eyes will have you notice all sorts of stuff you hadn't seen before. So here is chapter five!

BTW- I will make chapters a bit shorter so I can update faster, but the quality will remain the same, hopefully.

Thanks for the support of all my followers and readers! You rock!

* * *

**Foes and No Friends**

* * *

He couldn't feel anything. Nothing at all.

He unsure whether or not this was a good or bad situation, but knowing his infamous luck it was somewhere around 'positively terrible'. So, in order to examine his surroundings, he blearily began attempting to open his eyes. Such a simple, everyday action shouldn't have taken so much effort but he felt exhausted. At least, he thought it shouldn't take so much effort. To be honest, his head was achy and confused, and he took no single thing that crossed his mind at face value.

Aha! Harry blinked repeatedly once he had managed to unglue his eyelids from his pupils. With a quick, sweeping glance he took in a rather terrifying sight.

Blood. On the tilted walls and dirt floor and- oh dear lord- all _over _him. _Coming _from him. A slowly closing hole (magical healing, Harry presumed) in his side was still seeping a thin stream, and Harry was suddenly very glad he couldn't feel a thing besides from his headache.

* * *

With a vicious snarl he leapt for the man's throat, and Harry watched as the trusted confidant of a dog transformed...

"It wasn't me, Harry I swear. It was Pettigrew..."

"They'll suck out your soul..."

Harry felt shell-shocked, and honestly, a tiny bit thrilled. "You're my godfather? I have a..."

* * *

As quickly as the flood of memories had come, they vanished, leaving Harry back in what he now recognized as a tent. A really crappy tent. Coated in his blood.

He gasped for breath, clawing at some sort of cloth under him that was certainly too coarse to be a bed. Panting because of the strange energy that seemed to have been taken during his little flashback, he summarized the events.

_Mysterious godfather? Check._

_Psycho teacher? Check._

_In the middle of nowhere? Check._

_Injured? Check._

_Released all magic too damn fast? Check._

The fact of the last thing he listed really began to hit home, and Harry felt an awkward looseness inside himself. It felt- right but not, like new shoes you had to grow into. One of the downsides of releasing all your magic at once is that it doesn't just take your current level of capability, it goes for the full capability of your adult self. So you have all the power you should have originally grown into at once and, get this, _it keeps growing._ As if you were a particularly gifted child that just advances their gifts.

Harry drew a shaky breath, and decided to take the initiative and get moving, somewhere, anywhere. He stood and wobbled, and for a second was close to collapsing down- but managed to grasp the tall, supporting pole in the center of the tent before his face met the floor on a whole other level. He reached for the flap of the tent with trembling fingers- though before he could it was ripped away with the sound of,

"He's MY friend and you can't keep him-" Hermione, wonderful, wonderful, familiar Hermione, snapped her mouth shut when she saw Harry. Eyes tearing she suddenly launched forward into Harry's arms, who really did fall this time. Hermione just barely caught him and Harry felt embarrassed at his weakness, that he had to be saved, even if it was something as trifle as a fall. He was a very...independent person.

He could feel a slight, barely noticeable blush creeping onto his cheeks that, if it was any darker, could have gave his shame away. Thankfully, Hermione didn't say anything to acknowledge she could have noticed, though she might have just been being polite.

"Oh, Harry! I thought- _we_ thought-" She choked here, her teary eyes finally letting the water drop down her cheeks, and Harry now took in her overall appearance.

Disheveled, grime-coated, and frankly, downright scary was what met his eyes. But sad too, and worried. Worried about him, his well being, just like the Hermione he knew so well. Harry felt touched at the caring someone could feel for him, heaven knows the Dursleys never showed him anything but disgust.

After a drawn out, wracking cough he spoke, asking the largest question prancing about in his head as he took in the forestry and cluster of tents spread outside his blood splattered temporary (or so he assumed) housing. A ginormous horde of burly looking, but agile appearing as well, men watched indiscreetly -and probably listened in too- as Harry did so. They may have appeared calm, and probably were the ones to heal Harry, but he couldn't help but mistrust them. They had no friends here.

"Hermione-" He stopped, trying to swallow the raspy tinge to his voice. "Hermione, where are we?"

* * *

Too long. Too long he had waited for such a golden opportunity. He was uncertain as of at first, but the resemblance was uncanny without the glamours.

The child had survived, and now, would pay for his father's crimes.

Oh, how the sentimental fool would beg for just a chance to see his once thought dead son. And how he would break from within, to see his son turn down the path Mr. Sentimental had shied from years ago. The path he had seen his best friend, practically his brother, turn to as well.

When the friend turned down this path, the fool who was brother in everything but blood was devastated. People on that kind of road can't have friends, but the fool wouldn't accept that. That people like that can't have friends at all, especially not best friends, brother-like friends. But to lose his son that same way, that would be something else entirely, and though losing a friend is hard, this would be shattering. The fool's life would come down around him.

All of this will be my doing, he thought happily. The joyous man (if you could even call him a man) smiled eerily and stood up from his high back chair, reaching for a silver chain dangling over the prepice of a nearby table. It was a beautiful object on that chain, priceless, and stolen.

He held the engraved pendant up, and it was illuminated by the light of the fire, which glinted off the furnished surface. He smiled again, remembering another fire, from another day.

That day had seemed like the end, but now he knew it was the beginning.


	6. Answers and Issues

Author's Note: Been a while and I know I said I'd update fast, but I was on vacation without internet. You think it sounds lame to you? It sucked for me. Well, here's a chapter that will hopefully answer some of your wonderings. -thosetooweaktoseekit

* * *

**Answers and Issues**

* * *

"Well Harry," said Hermione in a false cheery voice, "we're about thirty miles from Lichendan. I can't believe we got so lost!" Harry eyeballed her with confusion, and saw what he hadn't before. He didn't like it, either.

Hermione was tensed, as if preparing to run, and a wild fear was in her eyes. He must've been right thinking that these people were no friends of theirs. A surge of protectiveness for Hermione rose up, and he felt sudden anger at the men- then himself. Getting injured was probably what got us here, Hermione would never abandon him, Harry thought. For once, he wishes she did leave him behind. He hated placing the few he cared about in danger.

"Harry." The voice that called from across the clearing wasn't questioning but stating and relatively plain, though the one called could hear the concern and relief.

"Ron." Harry grinned widely, and decided to ignore a growing guilt in his stomach. Whatever situation they were in, it was tied to him releasing his magic, and he dragged back Ron and Hermione. All the same, he was glad to have his best friends by his side, despite how selfish that sounds.

"All right then," Hermione spoke once more with the overly bright tone, "let's discuss on how to get to Hogsmeade, as we had originally planned. I'm chilly, may we step within the tent?" Harry quite nearly smiled, Hermione was clever. Going into the tent would give them some slight privacy to talk. There was no suspicion in the gaze of the wizards from afar, so he doubted they cared to listen any longer, the trio had lost their interests.

No, the camp men were no longer paying attention- but a pair of ice blue eyes were pinned on the three's retreating forms from the sky.

* * *

"That was Sirius Black! Sirius Black, mass murderer, escapee from Azkaban, number one follower of You-Know-Who-"

"My godfather," Harry said quietly, interrupting Ron. Said person stopped and gaped.

"But he's the one- the one who-" Harry, though slightly afraid to, asked, "Who what, Ron?" The boy took a deep breath before talking.

"Who handed over your parents. I overheard Dad talking to some official in the floo." Harry's heart dropped, and even the rather blunt, insensitive Ron realized so. "I mean, well, maybe he meant somebody else, mate. You know, like, like-"

"It isn't true." Harry stated calmly all of a sudden, lifting his head.

"But he broke out just to kill you!" Ron said stubbornly.

"No, he didn't. If he had, I'd be dead." The impeccably calm tone continued. Hermione cut in, disbelieving. "Harry, how exactly could you be so sure of that?"

"Because I spent the summer with him." His friends' jaws dropped.

"What?!" They cried in near perfect unison.

"Careful," Harry warned, "or you'll end up like the twins." That brought half-hearted smiles to their faces. Harry sighed softly. "You know how McGonagall-"

"_Professor _McGonagall, Harry." Hermione corrected out of habit. Harry rolled his eyes and continued. "Yeah, well, you know how _Professor _McGonagall has been talking about animagi?" He didn't have to explain further, they caught on fast.

"You mean, he-" Hermione breathed. "Yup." Harry smiled sadly. " It wasn't him who- who handed them over. I could tell Hermione, he was speaking the truth. I trust him, I do." It was silent for a hovering moment, but Hermione spoke up again. "You asked where we are, Harry? Somewhere in London. I think the proper question is when." Ron's eyes widened and he paled a considerable bit. Harry was reminded of the night they met Aragog.

"How far back, do y'reckon?" Ron asked, in the quietest voice Harry had ever heard him use. Hermione shrugged uncomfortably before answering.

"Could be anywhere from a thousand to eight hundred. What we really need to find out though is how we got sent back. It must have been a powerful source for so far a trip..." She trailed off into her thoughts, her voice lowering with every word. Ron stayed fixated on one thing, though. "A thousand to eight hundred what, Hermione?" Harry could've swore his voice trembled.

"Years, Ron. We went back to possibly over a thousand years in the past. If we can find what sent us here though, we can most likely go back." She may have appeared confident, but Harry knew her and she was scared. He also knew her well enough that he realized she wouldn't stop until she finds what brought them to this time. Him. Time to come clean, I guess, Harry thought miserably.

"Um, well, you see... that was sort of me." Before either of his friends could talk he spit out the whole story. "I found out my magic was restrained and I found a way to release it in some of the books I picked up for extra reading. Only thing is that in order for it to work safely you need to remove the block over time and avoid strong emotions because they could trigger releasing all your magic which is, like, really bad. But Snape was being, well, Snape and when Sirius tried to help me he was a jerk and I got really angry. Strong emotion equals magic release, and the effect depends on the person and is unpredictable, my magic release sent us here I guess." Harry cleared his throat in the heavy quiet that followed, and twitched before saying, "I'm really sorry, I didn't think and- I'm sorry." Hermione let out a choked laugh.

"Since when do you do 'extra reading'?"

"Hey! I can read!" Harry protested defensively.

"So who was blocking your magic?" Ron asked after a moment.

"Dunno. Haven't figured it out yet, and I doubt Malfoy can cast a spell so powerful, so don't even suggest it, Ron." Ron grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it." Harry felt odd, his friends were taking his mistake too well.

"Aren't you guys mad?"

"Harry, we know how we were sent here, which is more than we had a few minutes ago. This is good, and we are not going to blame you for something you couldn't help. You naturally have strong emotions, of course you would've done something rash eventually. This isn't your fault." Harry disagreed, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Did you-" Ron had spun around to face the exit of the tent.

"What is it?" Hermione questioned, worry furrowing her brow. Ron, strangely enough, rubbed at his ears earnestly.

"I could have swore that, nah, it's impossible." Harry heard a soft crack outside, like that of a tree twig underfoot.

"Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly, "for God's sake just tell us-" Another soft crack, then another and another. Harry neared the canvas of the tent.

"Shhh. Don't you hear that?" He hissed. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but saw his expression. A louder crack this time, then the next even louder.

"That's what I heard earlier, and it's not good." Ron whispered worriedly.

"What's not good?" Harry whispered back.

"At home, when I was younger, I would watch mom get the pigs. I knew we were going to eat then but didn't understand how we were going to eat a live animal. She pulled out her wand though, and I heard a crack just like the ones now. The sound of sn-" The next crack was so loud that it blocked out Ron's softly whispered words. But suddenly Harry understood what Ron was going to say. It wasn't snapping twigs outside.

It was snapping necks.


	7. The Huntress and Her Prey

Author's Note: Snapping necks was a bit nasty I suppose, but I really wanted Ron to be in a situation where he's the first the figure something out. So, yeah. And, of course, perfect cliffy. -thosetooweaktoseekit

* * *

**The Huntress and Her Prey**

* * *

"Don't do it, Harry," Hermione pleaded with her best friend. He payed no heed to her whispered warning, and slowly reached for the opening flap. This time it wasn't ripped away before he could reach it, instead it lifted at his touch to reveal-

Nothing. No broken bodies, no attackers. But the weirdest thing of all was that, besides from the tent he was peering out of, Harry saw no sign of the camp and men that had been here mere minutes ago.

When Harry hadn't been killed once opening the flap, Hermione edged over to look about.

"Could the cracks have been apparition?" She muttered, then spoke in a louder voice when turning to Ron. "Is that what you were going to say? Apparition?" Ron looked at her incredulously, clearly not understanding how she could get 'apparition' from a story about killing pigs. She shrugged slightly, as if to say nothing else made sense for the disappearance. Ron begin to open his mouth to answer, but Harry beat him to it.

"Snapping necks. The spell his mum cast snapped the pigs' necks." Hermione looked a bit sickened by Harry's explanation, though took it in stride.

"Well then, Ron was just mistaken." She said in a primly voice.

"No," Ron said shakily, "no. It was necks, you never forget that sound." Hermione huffed heavily.

"Well, no one's dead. No one's here, even!" Ron pushed his way out of the tent fully to stand beside Harry.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, it was what I said! Necks!"

While the two argued, Harry began to feel considerably chillier. He rubbed his bare arms, and unconsciously looked up to find the sun, but it wasn't there anymore.

A dark cloud was growing in the sky above them-no, not growing, but, coming closer?

"Guys," Harry said loudly with worry, but they ignored him, "Guys!"

The second time both spun to face him, and Ron said, "Hey, is it just me, or did it get colder- and darker?"

"We need to move," Harry said, pointing out the strange cloud coming down.

"Alright, but what is it?" Hermione asked, soundly genuinely interested. Harry, on the other hand, was exasperated.

"Let's _not _stick around to find out!" He said, letting his personal opinion on Hermione's question show.

With that, the trio headed for the broadleaf forest, hoping that the foliage would secure them from whatever that thing was. Harry looked around the lush undergrowth teeming with colorful flowers he had no idea could have ever been indigenous to the London area. He would probably appreciate the beauty having grown up in suburbia nearly a thousand-ish years in the future, but now was not really the time, so he ignored everything but the black huckleberry bush he decided to crouch behind.

The darkness grew until the clearing they were once in was completely shadowed over. It really wasn't a cloud, Harry decided, it was a group of something falling/flying down, clouds don't have spacings like that and don't change position so strangely. The things were too far away still to distinguish, so he settled in to wait until he could. By the time the things had gotten close enough to see, they were moving too fast to recognize.

It wasn't until the jumbled mess fell onto the ground, that he could tell what it was. And he, Harry Potter, who has faced off with the horrifying Lord Voldemort, believed it was the most terrible thing he had ever seen and ever will. He was wrong. He would see much worse, but he didn't know that yet.

The tents and men hadn't disappeared, just been temporarily removed, apparently. Because the cloud was really the pile of bloodied bodies and equipment falling from wherever they went. Almost against his will, Harry walked toward the carnage. He bent down to the first man he saw on his knees, whose face was purple and bearded. He reached out to its neck with disgust, but had to confirm his theory. Pushing the head softly, Harry saw it fall back with astonishing speed. The neck was broken. Standing up and brushing off his robe, Harry surveyed the field of what used to be the camp he knew so little of.

He didn't have to check the rest of their necks, he knew what he'd find. Limbs twisted at disturbing angles and some mouths still held open in expressions of surprise, it was all Harry could do not to be sick. Harry hadn't trusted the men! But no one deserved to be so heartlessly ended. He was in a sort of daze, it felt like he couldn't move. He could faintly hear someone calling to him, _"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"_

But, he just stood there numbly. It wasn't until the voice changed, from concern to horror, that he moved. By the time he had whirled around though, it was too late.

"HARRY! HARRY WATCH-" The boy in question felt a sharp pain on his head, and saw the ground coming up to meet him before the world faded, for the second time in one very long, very confusing day.

* * *

"Do you think he works with them?"

"We can't be sure."

"Why else would they heal him?"

"The Order often takes stray wizards and witches in need in, and converts them against their wills in exchange for 'help'. If he's new, then he possibly hasn't be tainted by that vileness yet."

"But they used precious resources for the healing, I heard them saying something about direct orders from-"

"From whom?"

"From _him._"

"Impossible."

"But-"

"This conversation is over."

* * *

Harry awoke to the sounds of arguing, and immediately thought of Ron and Hermione.

"This conversation is over." But Ron didn't have that silky, dangerous, adult voice. It reminded him of- _Snape. _Harry felt sick and suddenly afraid to open his eyes, he really didn't want Snape to be there. But, he thought, gathering his Gryffindor courage, if Snape's here then we're back. Which is good. Which means I have to open my eyes.

It wasn't Snape. A tall, imposing figure with striking blue-almost-black eyes and shoulder length, curly (oil free), midnight hair was standing beside his bed with the most beautiful girl Harry had ever seen.

She was probably around his age, and had a quiver of arrows strung across her shoulder. She was wearing a flowing deep blue dress that met the floor gracefully, and she had blue eyes, but not like the man's. Hers were so light a hue they were like chips of ice. The girl had high, prominent cheekbones and rosy lips. Harry almost blushed embarrassedly thinking of this girl's lips when he could be in danger, his friends could be in danger.

"What were you doing in the outskirts of Lichendan?" The girl was speaking. "Do you work with those men? What are your orders? Is-" The girl glanced hesitantly to the solemn man by her side before plowing forward with what Harry hoped to be her last question on the list. "Is the Lord alive?" Now Harry knew why the girl was hesitant, the intimidating man appeared calm, but his eyes told a different story. They boiled with rage suddenly at her audacity for asking whatever that last question meant.

Then the door to Harry's odd prison burst open before he could say a word, allowing in a petite lady in a sunshine yellow dress designed the same as the beautiful girl's.

"Helena," the woman scolded, "you look like one of those horrid Huntresses. Put that quiver away in the armory immediately!" Helena looked angry now.

"But look, I found a campment of the Order and even got one for questioning!" The woman, whom Harry, for some strange reason, felt utterly at ease with, smiled kindly at him.

"When she plays Huntress, I suppose she needs prey. Don't worry dear, you're far from those horrid people now." She turned to Helena with a half smile that ruined her reprimanding tone. "You did the right thing, even if by accident. You saved this young man from becoming something he isn't." Helena looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time since I've awakened, and I felt my stomach do an odd leap.

"Who are you?" She looked at me in a way that slightly reminded me of Ginny Weasley, but that was a stupid thought so I ignored it.

"I can easily ask the same, but honestly don't care right now. When you 'saved me', my friends were there. They probably think I'm dead or worse. _They _could be dead or worse. I don't know who those people at that camp were, but I need to go back for my friends." Harry finished speaking, and looked around. The man was the first to respond.

"We'll bring you to your friends, if you tell us how exactly you ended up at the Order's camp." Harry mentally gaped at the man's words, his friends were in danger!

"They could be hurt or-"

"We know," the yellow dressed woman said softly, " but know we cannot help you if we do not know what's going on. We can start on introductions. My name's Helga, Helga Hufflepuff, and you are?" Harrry gulped. It hadn't really sunk in that they had gone back in time, but this was the solid proof, someone claiming to be Helga Hufflepuff. Someone who is Hufflepuff.

"My name's Harry, Harry Potter. And you're not going to believe this one..."

* * *

He grasped the delicate crystal wine goblet with anger, squeezing too hard. It shattered and the shards pierced his skin, making little rivers of blood ooze down his palm and into his sleeve. He didn't care.

_His final puzzle piece, his perfect solution; gone. He was so close, to victory, to revenge, glory, and more- much more. But then the answer slipped through his fingers. He had to find a way, he knew, to complete his plans. The child was at the center of it all. _

The beast of a man picked up the chain for the stolen pendant, and pondered it.

_Of course! This can work, my way. I played their way too damn long. We're working by my rules now. Slytherin had been devastated when I turned to the darkness, now I'll turn his son too. Make him into the monster that Salazar was so afraid of becoming. He'll regret ever siding with his fool friends once I destroy him with his own blood. _

The Lord rose from his high back chair and whistled loud. A large, prestigious Eagle Owl flew to his outstretched arm.

"Here dear," the man crooned, "you know where to deliver." And he watched as the bird flew off into the distance, watched as step one of his spectacular plan came to life. He was content to just stand at that open window, see the sun fade beneath the horizon, and think about all he was going to do.


	8. The Truth and the Truce

Author's Note: To **RAZ**\- yeah, Snape's an ass. That's why it's fun to write him, I think we all secretly like to be arseholes sometimes, don't even deny it you guys!

Thanks go to everyone's support, that's right, shout out to my followers and favoriters and reviewers! You guys are the best! -thosetooweaktoseekit

P.S. I don't really think favoriters is a word, but let's go with it, alright?

* * *

**The Truth and the Truce**

* * *

Hermione was fed up. She had almost lost Harry earlier and now some psycho girl with arrows kidnapped him.

She felt anger wash over her, and let it, because if she wasn't mad she would cry. It just wasn't fair. _Life isn't fair,_ Harry would say.

Ron looked furious pacing beside her, but Hermione knew he was scared and sad and worried too. They had all been through thick and thin together, to hell and back it seemed, but this complicated situation grew worse by the second- and they didn't know how to deal with it. It didn't help that Hermione had a nagging suspicion that the reason they were sent back when Harry's magic was released was because of the Time Turner she had. She suspected that Harry's magic latched onto the most powerful thing in the room- the most magical. The Time Turner. So, all in all, not a good day for Hermione Granger.

"Oi! Hermione, I think I found a way to find Harry!" Hermione hoped that Ron was right, and that the horrible lingering feeling of guilt would soon cease to plague her.

* * *

"So, you're from the future?" Harry nodded emphatically.

"And we're supposed to believe this?" The harsh looking man glared piercingly at Harry. _Please,_ he thought, _I've dealt with Snape for two and then some years- you got nothing on that bat._

"Yes," Harry said calmly, " you are. What reason do I have for lies?" This was apparently what the man was waiting for.

"Every reason! You could-"

"be telling the truth? Who would be stupid enough to mess around with Helga Hufflepuff, a founder of Hogwarts! I get it, you don't trust me. I haven't given you any reason to, but at least I'm not attacking your integrity like you are to me! I think the question is why should I trust you?" The man's eyes softened and he dipped his head acceptingly, for reasons incomprehensible to Harry.

"I apologize," he said with a soft smile, " but you can never be too careful. Dangerous times, Harry Potter. No, you do not know if you can trust me, but you seem to trust Helga. Perhaps just for her founder status, so maybe you would be interested to find that she is not alone in the founding of this great school. My name is Salazar Slytherin, I hope we can get along." Harry felt stunned and was sure it showed, but really didn't care. Hufflepuff... Hufflepuff was a shocking discovery. But this was earth shaking.

"You- you sure about that?" Harry's voice almost cracked with strain. The most feared founder, perhaps the most feared man, of all time grinned in an oddly friendly manner, though seemed puzzled by Harry's change in mood.

"Quite."

* * *

"How in the world are we going to find Harry with- with _this_?!"

"My dad taught me, well, taught Bill is more like- but I listened in on them all the time- and there's this spell that connects the object to the person and you can follow the trail it shows. The trail is like a thread of gold and only the castor can see it." Ron responded to Hermione with gusto, clearly proud that he could contribute something. Hermione, however, huffed with exasperation.

"And how can you be sure that's the girl's hair? It could be anyone's!" Ron deflated a bit at his friend's proclamation, but knew she meant no insult by it.

"Got any better ideas?" And, no, Hermione Granger truly didn't. So with trepidation she asked,

"Well, what's the spell?"

"Er, you see, I- well- didn't _really _hear all of it." A small silence followed Ron's words. But with a determined and somewhat simultaneously resigned sigh, Hermione did speak.

"Then, for God's sake, tell me what you did hear. Maybe we can figure out the rest." When Ron looked appropriately confused at her calm acceptance, she elaborated. "Not like we have any better ideas."

"_Reditio indu. _That's all I know." Hermione paced back and forth, mind awhirl with ideas and possibilities.

"Does sound familiar," she murmured. "Of course!" Hermione cried out and nearly slapped her forehead, how could she had not realized! _Reditio indu _was part of her curriculum during Runes. It was unlike other Latin derived spells, because when used it was used without any addition of letter or changing of phrasing- it literally meant 'return to'. So, if her Runes class curriculum was correct, then they had their spell. Time to 'return to the one'. _Reditio indu unum._

* * *

"Does- my name bother you?" He was honestly curious. Meanwhile, Harry was honestly near hyperventilating. _This guy is an original founder all right, of BLOODY BLEEDING VOLDEMORT, _Harry thought. Hufflepuff stepped forward then.

"As you have ascertained this young man is trustable, can you ascertain that he, as a time traveller, perhaps needs some rest?" Harry vowed right then to never make fun of a Hufflepuff, they were true life savers. He knew he wouldn't have calmly been able to answer Slytherin's question. But it didn't escape him that somehow the man had 'ascertained' he was trustable. Whatever that meant. Had he done something to Harry?

But those questions would have to wait until later, he really was exhausted. With the aid of a Dreamless Sleep potion that the motherly Hufflepuff quite nearly shoved down his throat, Harry was out in a few minutes. Outside the door, Slytherin waited for Helga to leave. When she finally emerged from the room he sighed.

"Godric will want to question him, you know." Helga smiled softly, and replied.

"It is a dangerous time. He merely wishes to be careful and keep his friends safe. Surely you cannot argue that?"

"I don't, and I won't. It's just- a time traveller. Exactly what we needed right now. On top of all the the problems with the remainders of the Order, not to mention what Helena overheard." Helga took a sharp intake of air.

"I thought you said it was impossible!" Salazar sighed again, deeper this time, while running his fingers through his dark hair.

"It is. It should be. It must. But then again, wasn't Morarc always one for doing the impossible?" The usually cheery witch took on a look of despair.

"We can't, not again, Salazar. Last time- was sheer luck."

"And then there's the manner the child, Harry, reacted to my name. I know you noticed, that's why you made me leave. But I had saw the disgust in his eyes already." Hufflepuff knew that to anyone else, Slytherin's tone would have come off as indifferent, but as one of his closest friends she could hear how lost he was. How ashamed he was, and sad that someone -even from a thousand years in the future- was disgusted by him. Then something struck her.

"That's why you're really worried about Godric, you don't want him catching wind of the possibility of Morarc returning, or worse, having already returned." Salazar grinned half heartedly.

"We all know how hot headed he can be. I just don't want him doing anything reckless, in a moment of anger or frustration."

"Well," Helga said with a mock thoughtful expression, "I suppose it is going to be an interesting semester, eh?" And repeating what he had said to Harry, Salazar replied dryly,

"Quite."


	9. The Second First Day

Author's Note: Finally, chapter nine has arrived. I made it, to begin to make up for my absence with this story. I was distracted with my other one, Hadrian Riddle and the Crimson Lance, and just life itself.

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

"It is a dangerous time. He merely wishes to be careful and keep his friends safe. Surely you cannot argue that?"

"I don't, and I won't. It's just- a time traveller. Exactly what we needed right now. On top of all the the problems with the remainders of the Order, not to mention what Helena overheard." Helga took a sharp intake of air.

"I thought you said it was impossible!" Salazar sighed again, deeper this time, while running his fingers through his dark hair.

"It is. It should be. It must. But then again, wasn't Morarc always one for doing the impossible?" The usually cheery witch took on a look of despair.

"We can't, not again, Salazar. Last time- was sheer luck."

"And then there's the manner the child, Harry, reacted to my name. I know you noticed, that's why you made me leave. But I had saw the disgust in his eyes already." Hufflepuff knew that to anyone else, Slytherin's tone would have come off as indifferent, but as one of his closest friends she could hear how lost he was. How ashamed he was, and sad that someone -even from a thousand years in the future- was disgusted by him. Then something struck her.

"That's why you're really worried about Godric, you don't want him catching wind of the possibility of Morarc returning, or worse, having already returned." Salazar grinned half heartedly.

"We all know how hot headed he can be. I just don't want him doing anything reckless, in a moment of anger or frustration."

"Well," Helga said with a mock thoughtful expression, "I suppose it is going to be an interesting semester, eh?" And repeating what he had said to Harry, Salazar replied dryly,

"Quite."

* * *

Chapter Nine

**The Second First Day At Hogwarts**

* * *

In an off-white room in a castle in Scotland, two very different people argued.

"Are you kidding? You said that I could go find my friends after I told you everything. They could be in serious danger! You have to let me go! I need to-" Helga frowned and held out an arm to stop Harry from rushing past.

"Dear, we are well aware of the dangers. That is why we cannot let a student of ours, from the future or not, go about roaming." Before Harry could protest again, she held up a hand. "We've sent out search parties. They are the best and brightest and know how to handle any dangerous situations. Your friends will be fine, and so will you. " Harry sat back down on the bed he spent the night in- he was in the hospital wing according to Hufflepuff, or as they called it, the healthing quarters. Well, if he was trapped here he might as well figure out as much about everything as possible.

"Yesterday, when Slytherin said he wasn't sure if he could trust me, why did he change his mind so suddenly?" The motherly woman sighed deeply.

"Salazar has a unique- ability. He was trying to get you riled up so your emotions would be stronger. He is an Empata, Naturais." At Harry's confused look, she laughed and elaborated. "Empata Naturais means natural empath in Galician, Old Celtic. He could sense your honesty behind your words when your emotions were high." Harry was slightly disturbed by this information, he didn't like that someone could just know exactly how he was feeling whenever he was particularly emotional. Which, for him, was rather often.

Oh, and this person just happened to be the Slytherin. Yeah, no biggie- like Dudley.

Catch the sarcasm?

"Hey! How can I understand you? I mean, the languages must've changed over a thousand years." She laughed, it was warm and hearty.

"Hogwarts is warded in many different ways, one of the wards assures there will be no language barriers within the walls." Harry was confused by this, Hagrid and McGonagall had accents- when according to Hufflepuff they should be perfectly easy to understand. Then he remembered something Hermione once told him- wards can be taken down or they will deteriorate over time. He supposed a thousand years might've caused a few warding issues.

"Who is the Order, and what did they want with me and my friends?" Hufflepuff sighed to Harry's question.

"That, m'dear, is the thing. We don't know what their type would want specifically with you, although it is known that young witches and wizards have been disappearing all over. Perhaps they merely wanted to recruit you, like all the others. Though, I admit, sending out an entire group for three is," she swallowed thickly, "unusual." Harry eyed her.

"But from the way Helena was speaking, it sounded important. We sounded important, or at least to this 'Him' guy." He didn't miss the fact she never explained who the Order was.

"Now, Hadrian was it?"

"Harry," he correctly absentmindedly.

"There is no need to exaggerate," Hufflepuff calmly spoke, but the worry in her eyes told so much more of what the lady was thinking,"Helena is often quite dramatic. You, and your friends, have nothing to worry from the Order."

"But they used precious resources to heal me!" He protested, quoting something else he had heard Helena say. "And you still haven't even explained who the Order is, or why they recruit people. What are they recruiting for?"

"Darling, you mustn't press this. I assure that you are safer, not knowing." That sounded to Harry like the direct version of what Dumbledore told him in first year. _The truth is a dangerous and beautiful thing, therefore it must be treated with the utmost caution. _Well, at least she didn't skirt around the issue- but that didn't mean Harry had to like it.

Feeling miffed Harry asked, "So what am I going to do, sit here all day and night until my friends arrive? As you won't allow me to look for them." The last sentence was pointedly rude, even Harry felt a bit awkward for being so out of character. Hufflepuff smiled, rather mischeviously, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't even a little scared.

"You are going to attend classes while the search party locates your friends and Rowena feverishly looks for a way to send you all back where you belong. She does enjoy a good challenge and a good excuse to dive into her books for days on end." Harry felt his throat tighten.

"You'll- help look for a way back? For us? Why?" Hufflepuff put a hand on Harry's knee.

"Just because it is simply the right thing to do. You belong in your time, we will help you return there. Rowena is thrilled by this, really."

"You think there really is a way? I mean, for us to go back home?"

"Darling, if there is a door to enter in, then there is always a door to exit from." Harry understood that logic, but couldn't believe the founders (the founders!) were going to aid them in returning home- a nearly impossible sounding task. Where to begin? He barely understood how he got here, how to return was not even in his mind yet. Until now.

"Well, dear, you best be off. Salazar awaits outside the door to hand you your class schedule. He will be showing you the way around, and also be giving a little background on today's current news, so you can be a bit caught up on the correct times." Harry felt his stomach plummet, Slytherin was his guide to the school? He would have rather been stuck in the 40s with a teenaged Tom Riddle.

Scratch that, no he wouldn't. Ugh.

Harry would rather just be in his time, honestly.

Hufflepuff eyed him closely and curiously.

"Something the matter, dear? Are you all okay?"

"No, nothing- I should be going." He stood abruptly, and walked out the door without another word. _Calm, _he thought, _must be calm- and collected._ True to the lady founder's word, Salazar Slytherin was leaned against the wall beside the door, with a nonchalant look. What had happened to the man who had shared with him a small friendly smile? Harry shook those betraying thoughts away, he didn't want to befriend the notorious founder- he wanted to avoid him. But still- what had changed Slytherin's attitude so drastically?

Without a slight acknowledgement of Harry's entrance to the hall, he turned away and began walking down the hall.

Harry followed hesitantly, already feeling his dislike for this man grow.

Neither of them attempted to make small talk. Or any talk.

Okay, it was a little unfair to judge someone he didn't know- but history spoke of him as practically the root of all evil.

Who could blame Harry for having reservations instead of just trusting Salazar Slytherin with all his Gryffindor heart?

Before Harry had even realized it, they had arrived at a tall wooden door with intricate Runes carved into it. It pulsates with magic- good magic that sung happily in the presence of more wizards.

"This is the Defensive Arts classroom, your first lesson of the day. You will be taught by my colleague, Godric Gryffindor. You will address him as Professor Gryffindor, if necessary. I will be back by the end of the hour to collect you for your next lesson." Slytherin finally turned to look at him and added, almost as an afterthought. "Don't get into any trouble." His voice had been stiff and boringly informative the entire little speech.

Harry resisted the urge to grin, trouble was his middle name. It wasn't like he could help it! Trouble found him, plain and simple.

Slytherin once again walked away and Harry went to open the door. It swung out to him with a creak befor he could touch it though, and he was greeted with a classroom of stares.

So began his second first day at Hogwarts.

This would be fun!

* * *

The trees pressed in on them oppressively, and they were finding it hard to breathe for some unknown reason.

But still, the pair wove on through the forest- the only sounds they were aware of was their pounding feet and the thoughts racing through their heads. It was hard to tell what was faster.

"There!" One shouted out to the other. "Over there, I can see it!" His partner retorted, panting.

"We can't make it! These trees have magic- the air- there isn't enough!" Despite that, and the dizziness that was working itself into their brains, they plowed on.

So was the power of friendship, eh? Anything for a friend.

Anything for Harry.

And so Ron and Hermione struggled to follow the distant beam of light that would take them to their friend, Harry.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey you guys, so up next is Harry's first Defensive Arts class, his Potions class, and Magical History class. It was originally going to be part of this chapter, but the word count was nearing six thousand- so I decided to split it up.


	10. Gryffindor- Need I Say More?

Author's Note: Finally! Sorry, it's just that after Europe I was knackered, and then immediately devoted myself to Hadrian Riddle and the Crimson Lance. But I have come back to It's Who We Are.

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

Harry followed hesitantly, already feeling his dislike for this man grow.

Neither of them attempted to make small talk. Or any talk.

Okay, it was a little unfair to judge someone he didn't know- but history spoke of him as practically the root of all evil.

Who could blame Harry for having reservations instead of just trusting Salazar Slytherin with all his Gryffindor heart?

Before Harry had even realized it, they had arrived at a tall wooden door with intricate Runes carved into it. It pulsates with magic- good magic that sung happily in the presence of more wizards.

"This is the Defensive Arts classroom, your first lesson of the day. You will be taught by my colleague, Godric Gryffindor. You will address him as Professor Gryffindor, if necessary. I will be back by the end of the hour to collect you for your next lesson." Slytherin finally turned to look at him and added, almost as an afterthought. "Don't get into any trouble." His voice had been stiff and boringly informative the entire little speech.

Harry resisted the urge to grin, trouble was his middle name. It wasn't like he could help it! Trouble found him, plain and simple.

Slytherin once again walked away and Harry went to open the door. It swung out to him with a creak before he could touch it though, and he was greeted with a classroom of stares.

So began his second first day at Hogwarts.

This would be fun!

* * *

Chapter 10

**Gryffindor- Need I Say More?**

* * *

A tall man, in red and gold-trimmed robes smiled genially from the front of the long room.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, correct? Professor Hufflepuff has told me about you, and your arrival here. I give my condolences for your family." The man, whom Harry excitedly decided must be Godric Gryffindor, bowed his head respectfully to Harry.

Harry himself felt he should have probably been more worried about his friends and everything else in his life- but he was in no shape, way, or form able to aid his friends who were practically his family. So, he grabbed an empty seat in the third row, and decided to enjoy this class as much as possible.

A class taught by _the _Godric Gryffindor!

"Now today, as promised, we begin the subtle art of wordless magic. I have forewarned you all, not many can do it. But I was persuaded by many pleading students, that I must simply teach, at the very least, the basics of it!" He grinned jovially, but the smile soon dropped from his face.

He peered at each student's face individually before speaking. When his gaze fell on Harry, Harry had never felt so guilty and horrible. He didn't know why, but that look from Gryffindor gave him a feeling of weakness, that settled deep.

"As in every class," he spoke loudly and clearly, "I teach, to the best of my ability. So that your abilities may be heightened, improved perhaps. Whatever magic I show you here, you are to use in defense of yourself or others." A pause. "I expect nobility, and honor."

A longer pause, and he turned away from us.

"I have given you weapons;" he said lowly,"yourselves. Dark times are upon us, I will not lie. It approaches, and people fear."

He turned back to face us.

"Fear controls people. Makes them do things that they believe they must, but I assure you- _they need not. _They believed themselves weak, and that makes them weak. They use their abilities for wrong, in fear that it is the only way."

He spoke with thunder now.

"That is not why I teach you, so you can let fear control you! Your abilities are enhanced so that you can defend, not offend. If I ever learn that one of you has used what I have taught you for wrong, just hope I never find you. Remember, you always have a choice, and don't need to rely solely on your abilities and how you can use them against people. Have I made myself clear?"

A schooled murmur of _Yes Professor Gryffindor, sir_s filled the room. Harry's voice among them. He could vaguely recall Dumbledore saying something similar last year, about abilities and choices.

It didn't really surprise him that Dumbledore would be reminiscent of Godric Gryffindor.

"Was Morassen a student of yours, sir?" A sudden hush blanketed the room, and Harry realized, despite not knowing who Morassen was, that this was a forbidden subject.

Harry could not pinpoint whom had asked the daring question, but Gryffindor had no such trouble.

"Mr. Peverell," he said with a wicked glint in his eye, "was it not announced at the beginning of the year that the name Morassen was not to be spoken, lest a mass panic starts? That name tends to drag a dark cloud with it wherever it goes, yet you say it with such carelessness." The man seemed both exasperated and disappointed. "Stay behind this class, Mr, Peverell."

Harry felt as bad as 'Mr. Peverell' must have. That chastisement that the professor gave reminded him of how everyone flinched when he said Voldemort, yet he did it anyway. He didn't see it as a big deal, but maybe it was for others. More than he realized, and he wouldn't have truly realized at all if it weren't for Godric Gryffindor.

He also realized that Gryffindor was still talking.

"... and because of that, you will all begin with the simplistic spells to grasp an understanding of what exertion comes with this magical effort. Now, I will be pairing you up. So Mr. Flannegin and Ms. Secvitas," he said with some amusement, "please refrain from heated staring in my classroom. I promise, you too will _not _be working with each other."

The class burst out into a round of snorting laughter and giggles. Harry smiled fondly at the change in the class- from the dark silence surrounding this 'Morassen' to a giggle fit.

It was nice to sit back and just observe the other students and, of course, the legendary teacher.

Professor Gryffindor clapped his hands together twice quickly, and smiled jovially.

"Alright, let's get down to it!"

"Jorgensen, Peterswir!"

"Syle, Wirchensteirn!"

"Markson, Forn!"

"Aquiroga, Sameuls!"

There was no rhyme or reason to how he chose, he just threw a glance over the room, jabbed his pointer finger at two kids, and then chucked his thumb over his shoulder while calling their last names.

"Ramier, Potter!"

"Peverell, Decinduoes!"

"Acound, Sen!"

He kept going, as Harry nervously made eye contact with a Slytherin that was making his way towards him. Must be Ramier, Harry thought. Okay, act cool, normal. This is normal. Totally.

"Hello, Master Potter. We have not yet shared aquaintance, my name is Forde Ramier. You may call me Forde." Harry knew his name was not common, it was more of a nickname. So he went with,

"And you may call me Hadrian." The boy frowned at that, but Harry couldn't comprehend why. Hadrian was a normal name in this times. "Does my name bring you discomfort?" Harry was still unaccustomed to being so formal.

"No, no," Forde Ramier said hastily with a smile that he probably meant to be reassuring, but came off to Harry as condescending. He didn't like that.

"Alright!" Boomed Gryffindor again. "Begin! Remember, we are only practicing Expelliarmius today."

So Forde Ramier raised his wand to Harry and squinted a bit like he was thinking really hard about something. Nothing happened for a minute, then a small spark like fire leapt from his wand before quickly sputtering out.

"Okay then," he said while trying to mask his frustration, "your turn."

Harry was out of his depth here, but nonetheless he raised his wand while thinking of the incantation. He immediately came to the realization though, that just thinking the spell wasn't going to make it happen. He need to focus, concentrate, put feeling behind it.

He stared down Forde Ramier, and tried to imagine that he wasn't, well, Forde Ramier. Suddenly, the bone white face of Voldemort was staring back at him. Harry could just faintly hear an ethereal whisper-

"_Harry Potter- it has been... too long._" Harry was no longer in the classroom of Godric Gryffindor, he was on the battlefield and intended to win.

He lowered his wand, and Voldemort smirked in triumph.

"_Giving up so very soon. Have you learned your lesson?_" Each word was enunciated with perverse pleasure.

Harry mentally shot back, "_Haven't you learned your lesson? Don't let your guard down around us unpredictable teens._" With a quick flourish of his holly wood wand, Voldemort vanished to unveil the sight of a Forde Ramier flying backwards, his wand lying in defeat at Harry's robe cuffs.

The room was silent as Ramier stood from his crash against the opposing wall.

He eyed Harry speculatively. By the time he walked back over to his partner, the rest of the students had returned to practicing. Which wasn't that long.

Forde Ramier looked at Harry with an indescribable confusion. Harry was confused too, and that feeling only increased when the other teenager leaned over to him and whispered,

"Your name brings me not discomfort but terror, Hadrian."

Harry quite nearly sighed in defeat.

Why couldn't anything in his life be simple?

* * *

Author's Note: More soon, I promise! I had a huge chapter combining last chapter, this chapter, his Potions class, and his Magical History class. Instead I chunked it up to give a little more detail to certain points. That was mostly because of how I want the characters to react next chapter, I didn't like how I had it originally.

Thanks, -thosetooweaktoseekit


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